Lies Of The Beautiful
by Suma Akila
Summary: I wonder when I started thinking of all of this as a job. Probably around the same time that I stopped caring I suppose. Yeah, that sounds about right. GrimmxIchi. DarkFic. AngstyIchi.
1. Chapter 1

**Warning: Characters will be off and on OOC in this particular story of mine. Can't help it, that's just the way it has turned out. Mildly angsty, a bit darkly themed, and a whole lot of mind humping poor little Ichigo. Promise I will try and make it have a happy ending, but I don't really know at this point. It can go either way, unfortunately. With that little spill, enjoy.**

**Edited by my super awesome beta, operagirl76.**

**My Oxycodone**

I was being hunted. I could feel it, deep down in my bones as I moved through the dark streets of Karakura with my head hanging low and my shoulders hunched over against the cold. Not that the fact mattered, really. It didn't even faze me, though in the deepest parts of my mind I was aware that it should have bothered me. It should have set me on edge.

It didn't. It was like, I don't know. Like when you have a hangnail, and it hurts like hell, but you are just too lazy to cut it off. Or maybe when you get that gnawing hunger in your belly that makes you feel sick and you know that you should get up and get something to eat to make the sickness go away, but you just don't because you don't have the energy.

It was something like that. Something. I just didn't care, and I continued not to care when they stepped out from somewhere behind me after I had already stopped walking, staring at a pebble on the ground in disinterest. It was the smallest of things, just lying there on the side of the road by itself and completely out of place. I wanted to kick it, but that would take too much effort, and so I didn't. Instead I sighed, rolled my eyes up to the dark starless sky, and listened as the guy…he must have been their leader or something….rambled on about the dangers of walking alone at night and how he and his friends would just love to educate me on the subject.

Which, of course, only made me sigh again. This was ridiculous; the whole thing was extremely uninteresting. Why did they have to do this? It's almost like whenever I want to be left alone the most, someone always has to just drop right in and ruin it. And, just like everything else in my life, I'm just so tired of it. It makes no sense. It's like my hair was a bright light upon the highest standing lighthouse, gleaming in every direction for people to just slither out of their hell-holes and attempt to do…this, whatever they were doing.

My lack of verbal or physical response must have made that guy really angry because before I really knew it he was charging at me and swinging a bat, a freaking metal bat, at my head with all of his strength. It was…pretty funny actually. The way his beady eyes got all wide and his round face went all puffy and red in his anger. I mean, really? Was someone ignoring his pointless ramblings that infuriating?

I sidestepped the attack easily enough. I mean, I know I should have felt some sort of rise within myself, some sort of heart thudding and speeding up or panic or worry or anything, but I just didn't. It was almost like watching him in slow motion as I moved, my arm instinctively reaching out so that the back of my fist collided with the nape of his neck. I watched, mildly interested, as he stumbled a step before he pitched forward and face planted onto the asphalt.

I half expected the other two to come charging at me as well and I was somewhat disappointed when they didn't. Tch, couldn't they have at least tried? And so I let out a long suffering sigh and continued on, stuffing my hands back into the front pocket of my hoodie, ducking my head once more to trail on the ground.

Yeah. Same boring stuff, just a different boring day.

…..

There is something wrong with me, I think. I just kind of go through the motions now. I can't exactly tell what it is. There's just this never ending gaping hole of nothing settled right in my gut and, for some reason, nothing fills it up. It's irritating, but I stopped trying to figure it out a long time ago.

I smile, I laugh, and I have fun and joke around. The people around me…they don't seem to notice. That doesn't bother me either. Let them be ignorant, let them not see. I don't want them to see, but it wouldn't matter even if they did. It doesn't matter what they would say, what they would do, what looks they would give.

And so I continue on. With the roughhousing whenever friends want to roughhouse, with the jokes and subtle jabs that they want to throw back and forth, with the fake romance bubbling between me and that sweet-faced girl, woman, to whom I owe my life and who in return owes her life to me.

Just going through the motions. That's all. That's all that I need to do, because they all expect me to. They all look at me and see their answer, the wonder teen who will become their savior. Their salvation. I see it in their eyes, their heavy freaking expectations. Their hopes, their wishes, their dreams. A whole boatload of stuff that they just plop on my shoulders with their eyes, no words needed.

There was a time when I didn't mind. There was a time when feeling needed and wanted and stuff like that made me feel proud, made me feel strong. Now it just leaves me tired and drained and aching for something else, something to relieve me of this heavy burden that I have saddled myself with. I don't know when this feeling started.

I'm lying. I have a general idea.

It might have been when Aizen stood so close to me that our bodies nearly touched, those molten eyes of uncanny knowledge boring into my very soul as he murmured words that only I could hear. It might have been whenever I watched him cut down his own subordinates, or when the Soul Society had their most talented Captains dropping like flies around me. It might have even been whenever I woke up from my inner battle to see my father on his knees with his head bent low, trying to keep me as long as possible in the precipice world so that I could master the one last hope for us all.

But, I don't think any of that is right. I don't believe any of that is right at all. Although they might have had some part of it, some little niche of the overall gaping crack that now splits my mind; I know what drove the stake into my mind first. What opened the smallest little crack to allow the rest of it to finally seep in was that one thing, that one thing that was so big a triumph to everyone else, and yet life-changing for me.

It was those eyes, those goddamn eyes. I hated them. They haunt me even now. Resigned, thankful. Even as I went to strike what I thought would be a killing blow, he had held back what could have possibly been a successful defense and had looked at me with such an expression of utter acceptance that I nearly hadn't finished the attack at all.

And then Kisuke had come and bound him and delivered him like a wrapped present to the Soul Society and even though I knew, I knew that he deserved whatever he was given, I still couldn't help dreaming about those eyes and the way they had looked at me, and more than once I have woken up with a heaving chest and frantic eyes.

And life goes on.

…..

"There has been another strange surge in Hollow activity in the last past week."

He's got that stupid fan in front of his face again, and of course the upper half of his face is shadowed by that ridiculous hat and awkward hair. I wonder if he will ever cut it; it doesn't quite look right at the length that it's at. I don't answer at first, my eyes wandering to one of the windows and noting that the sun is starting to fall. It's getting kind of hazy out, that hour right before dark actually starts trying to creep up and replace the fading orange sun. What do they call it? Ah, yes. Dusk. When people comment on how pretty the sunset is and coo over with their lovers at the view. I wonder if maybe I should sit outside and watch the sunset with Orihime sometime. Sounds like something she would just love.

But….that would be too much effort. It's a nice thought though. My eyes return back to the cross-legged form of Kisuke, and I let that little smile that I know he is familiar with crawl onto my face and stuff my hands into the front pockets of my jeans.

"Yeah, well, no problem. I'll just keep fighting them like always. Shouldn't be a real problem anymore, not with Aizen gone."

I wonder, idly, if he hears the way my voice gives the smallest of breaks at the name. If he does, he doesn't mention it and instead reverts back into the old familiar creepy candy shop owner that everyone knows. Sometimes I wonder if his entire personality is fabricated like mine. Possibly. But I don't care enough anymore to actually think about it, and so the thought leaves me almost as soon as it flutters into my mind.

"Don't forget to keep up your training, Kurosaki-kun! You never know when you might need it!"

With that delightful little meeting over with, I leave the store, glad to get away from the overwhelming bite of sweet that always lingers on the air, my eyes sliding left then right before I continue on down the road towards my house. He is right, in a way. I shouldn't allow myself to get too far out of shape, but I just can't seem to muster the energy to care about that either. I train at least twice a week in that damn underground room of Urahara's, and that's just to appease the general populace. After all, they all feel safe when they know that their protector is keeping himself in tip-top shape! Gods forbid I don't train at all. I can't even begin to comprehend the actual repercussions of that. Too many questions, too much general probing.

No. I can appease them with at least twice a week. At least when I train I can let out some frustration. Not like when I get into a fight on the streets. No, then I have to hold back because God forbid I hurt an actual human being.

Life goes on.

Boring day after boring day.

I wish that something was different, that something would happen to snap me out of this continuously monotonous existence that I have fallen into. I wish something would just happen and fill up this nothing that has invaded my stomach.

I should know better than to wish for things like that. Nothing good ever comes out of anything that I wish for.

…..

**Hope you like this new one. It's an idea that has been niggling at my mind for a little while now and I have been studiously trying to avoid it…what with all my unfinished stories already….but as always its little voice has gotten louder and louder and, well, here it is. **

**Anyways. A little OOC. But really, I hope you end up liking it, when the pairing actually comes into play. Reviews are always welcome!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Don't own Bleach or its characters. Do own this particular bout of insanity, though. Dunno how this story is being received before, but I have to get out this next chapter because… well. I just have to.**

**NOTE THE STORY NAME CHANGE. I think it fits the story better. You will see why. **

**Do enjoy.**

**Lies of The Beautiful**

Funny thing I've learned in the past few years is nothing ever really goes as I ever wish it would go. Of course, that might be somewhat my own fault. Or sometimes it's dad's fault. Or some wayward Fisher Hollow. Or, recently, the Soul Society or the Visard's or Aizen and his strange posse of messed up Hollows that wear human faces and bodies and prance around seemingly so goddamn normal with the exception of being off their freaking rockers.

But I suppose all of us are a bit past falling off the proverbial sanity cliff. We kind of have to be, it comes with the job.

I wonder when I started thinking of all of this as a job. Probably around the same time that I stopped caring I suppose. Yeah, that sounds about right.

Anyways, I should have known that I should have kept my wishes to myself by now. Shouldn't even bother to voice them in my own head full of nothing. Sometimes I find myself missing that little taunting voice, that little nagging thing I hated for so long. It's ridiculous, really. I can't stand it, but it's almost as if I have lost part of myself. Don't get me wrong, I'm so very glad that I don't have his presence looming over my head or the threat of him always popping out all the time, but it's…I don't know. Exactly as I have said. Like I've lost part of myself. It's so ridiculous.

But, therein lies my entire problem. That one word sums up anything and everything in my life. Boring, insane, and downright _ridiculous. _

Whatever.

I keep complaining, and that's pointless really. It's not as if anyone hears me, and if they did…it's not as if they would actually care at all. People are selfish I have noticed. I used to not be. I can't say I am not now. And why not? The Soul Society used me to defeat their enemy when they couldn't do it, the Visard trained me to try and add me to their ranks, and Aizen…

I think about him a lot these days. I guess it's kind of inevitable really. With those fucking eyes. Always so cold, always so calm and collected and calculated for everyone else. Always so fake with tenderness and fake with care. And yet he never sent me those fake glances, never presented me with anything other than his true face. The one of evil, the one of careful consideration and ample contempt.

_I can see your heart. _

Stupid, thankful eyes.

I tug at the blades of grass beneath me, sitting on that hill where she died so long ago. It's muggy out, but I don't really mind because it's a heavy heat that replaces the echo of those eyes and the weight of expectations. I close my eyes, take a deep breath. It smells like rain is coming. I hate the rain. Now the rain reminds me of Zangetsu, and I don't talk to him anymore. Just like I don't talk to that Hollow that looks like a bleached out version of myself. He's not there anymore, or muffled so greatly that I can't hear him, and I know that he is brooding in the torrential downpour that must be draped over my inner world like a big grey blanket of sadness. He used to always tell me how much he hates the rain. Said he would do everything he can to help me, as long as he doesn't have to see it rain.

So much for that. I had destroyed that. Our place, our sanctuary where he and I could meet face to face and converse or battle, or press him for information on how to get stronger. And those eyes, finally seen from behind those ridiculous glasses, giving me one last longing stare of sadness as I accepted the blade he thrust at me. And all for the sake of the Soul Society and the Real World. All to fight Aizen for one last time, and see those stupid accepting eyes that looked so much like a reflection of Zangetsu's eyes as he said good bye to me.

See? Ridiculous. Aizen is an evil man. Zangetsu was my closest friend and partner. I traded one for the other and ended up with neither. Ha, what a joke my life has become. One big, bold exclamation point for people to snicker at or feel sorry for or look up to. Bah.

And so, even though I know I should never do it, and I know that nothing ever goes the way I want it to, I still look up to the fading light of the day to spot the first little hint of a star and, foolishly, I voice my wish out loud like I know I shouldn't even though there is no one around me.

"Just give me something, anything to get rid of this…. Life."

I'm not even sure what I mean, but really, I should learn how to trust my intuition. I should learn to keep my stupid trap shut, because even though I was wishing towards the sky, I didn't actually think my answer would come falling from it.

I really need to learn.

…

After getting over the initial shock, and the somewhat disoriented haze of misbelief, I was able to act. So here I am, back in Urahara's shop way before my second training session is due, staring at the problem at hand. I had thought that he was dead. I mean, I had left him in Heuco Mundo without a second thought, completely and utterly convinced that he was dead.

Apparently dead people have a way of coming back to life. Irritating little habit.

Urahara is standing beside me, looking down the length of his nose with his arms crossed over his chest. A very un-Urahara stance if you ask me. His hat sits off to the side, on the floor, allowing that awful hair to fall all over the place. At least I can see his expression; he doesn't even bother to hide it behind his fan.

He is clearly not pleased. Though he is not frowning, his face is blank and from experience I know that that means he is not fond of the situation. There's really nothing I can do about it though. I couldn't take him to my house, that would bring danger to my family. And I surely couldn't ask Rukia or anyone else from the Soul Society for help. So I brought him to the one bleeding heart that I know would help someone even if it would be against the Soul Societies knowledge or beliefs.

Which brings us back to right now.

Urahara is looking at me. He doesn't even turn his whole face towards me. He just looks from the corner of his eye with that unreadable expression and I don't know what he is expecting me to say. It kind of pisses me off. And I think that something must pass over my face because within the next heartbeat he is asking the question that is on his mind.

"What exactly are you wanting to do with him?"

I look away, back to my little _problem. _I don't know. Why is he asking me? I don't even know why I didn't just leave him where he had fallen. Which, humorously enough, was right on top of me. But, I could have just moved him out of the way and gotten up and just walked away. Would have been easy enough.

But no. Something had stopped me and so here I am, burdened with yet another thing that I would have to keep secret from everyone. A never ending vicious cycle. You'd think the sisters of fate would be tired of me by now. Guess not. I must be their favorite little human toy or something.

"The Soul Society will find out he's here, eventually. They'll want him."

I thin out my lips and look back to Urahara. He's still watching my with that expression that I can't read, with his arms still crossed over his chest. He hasn't moved an inch, while I know that I have been lightly shifting my weight from one foot to the other. Restless. I can feel it. The change. I don't know why it has decided to come about now, and in the form of _him, _but I'll take it as is.

"We can ask him about the increased Hollow activity here. He might know something of what's going on in Heuco Mundo. It's the best source of information we have, short of plowing into the damn place ourselves."

I don't know where the words come from, and apparently Urahara is as surprised as I am because I see the slightest little flicker of something in his eye and he is looking away from _me _then, idly drawing his fan out from the folds of his clothing and snapping it open in front of his face. His protection. I have said or done something that affects him so much that he needs to hide his expression. Wonder what it is.

"Very well. I will move him down into the training area before he wakes. I believe we will have to keep him hidden there for a while or he might actually try to escape. I won't tell anyone yet. But eventually it will need to come out."

And then Urahara leaves me standing there alone, looking at the motionless lump on the futon.

Well. Maybe he will be thankful that we saved him.

I really should know better than to think the things I do.

….

**This and many other stories will take a while to be updated. Last Thursday I was mobilized as a relief force for the Hurricane that slammed into the east coast, and that is where I am now. It is amazing that I have even been able to pick up connection… but I am trying. As of now I won't be home until Friday, and I am trying to update some of my other stories then. Hope you enjoyed this chapter!**


	3. Chapter 3

**This story is not Beta'd past the first chapter, so be patient with me please. I am having a bit of trouble controlling my tense usage, and so I'm sure a few places will be a bit off. **

**Anyways, I hope you enjoy. **

**Lies of The Beautiful**

I should have known better. Really. I think sometimes my brain just goes into stupid mode for the fun of seeing my reaction later on down the road.

And now… just look at me now. Jumping around, dodging, countering. I don't know why he is doing it. I mean, hell, he just woke up for God's sake and he's already reopening some of the wounds that Urahara had tried to close.

And he is coming at me with a vengeance. I don't get it. I'd already beaten him once, so why is he so intent on coming at me again and again and again? Maybe he can sense it, the weakness that has started crumbling me from the inside out. The weakness that started with a pair of thankful brown eyes and a last ditch attack that has left me stripped of the power I used to have.

He's absolutely furious. I don't think he's even realized that he's in the Human world yet, let alone that he is trapped in some underground training facility until we let him go. It was an instantaneous reaction. He shifted, his eyes opened and moved around, and in a flurry of motion he was up and on me like a freaking bat out of hell. Or an angry wild cat. Yeah, a cat. That works.

I don't know why I'm thinking of what to compare him to right now. He doesn't have his sword…Pantera? I don't know where it is, it wasn't with him when he had materialized out of nowhere and fell on top of me, and he sure doesn't seem to care about not having it. His maddened eyes are wide and heated in fury and his wild hair flies around his head as he ducks and jabs and tries to push in between my defenses. I haven't even drawn Zangetsu. There's no real reason to. Although he is a flurry of motion he is too worn out from his body trying to heal itself to be of much danger.

For some reason that is depressing. Here I was, hoping he would bring back some excitement in my life. Some fighting spirit that I think I lost whenever I lost contact with the Old Man and that psychotic Hollow in my head. So much for that. I can't help but look towards his abdomen where the worst of his wounds seem to have reopened and is now bleeding through the white bandaging wrapped securely around his waist. Well, what a waste of time and effort.

I'm still thinking about what a waste of time it is whenever I'm caught off guard. I go to absently block a well-aimed kick at my head and miss the fact that it's a feint and suddenly I am splayed out on the ground, looking up at the fake blue sky with a growling opponent standing over me, a foot on my chest pressing my ribcage down against my lungs.

Well, that's alright. I look up at him, waiting, almost bored. It'd be nice if he is the one that kills me now. I deserve it for not paying attention and, after all, when we had battled our few times before this I had actually been challenged to do all I could do. He had pushed me past the limits I thought I had. He is part of the reason why I knew, no matter what, that I could beat Aizen. Too bad that belief hadn't been enough for me to kill him, but Aizen is imprisoned now and Gin is dead and so is Tosen. So, threat gone. Really I do owe the man above me an awful lot, even though he is an enemy and I am pretty sure that I am about to die. I am probably looking at him like Aizen looked at me. I can feel it in my blank expression. Yes, I'm ready to go. Yes, you can kill me. It's alright. It's a good thing. I don't blame you.

Then that insane face is twisting in disgust and the man is hopping a few feet away from me, watching me with a mocking grin on his face. And as I sit up slowly and look at him he pokes at his own bleeding midsection idly while his blazing eyes gaze at me in contempt.

"Yer really pathetic, ya know? Can't even put up a real fuckin' fight anymore, can you, stupid shinigami. Ain't even worth the fuckin' effort if you don't even try to fight back."

_Ain't even worth the fuckin' effort…_

I stare at him. He stares at me for as long as he can before he snorts in his disappointment and seems to finally notice his surroundings, his fingers falling away from the torturous poking that has only made it bleed more.

"The fuck am I?" He grumbles the words to himself, almost distractedly, but he doesn't seem all that angry any more. In fact he seems to be treating me as if he doesn't even have the time of day for me, as if I am not even worth-

_Ain't even worth the fuckin' effort…_

I feel something then. It's the first time I've felt anything in so long that for a second I mistake it for a simple stomach ache. And then it begins to grow and get more intense and suddenly I feel as if I might explode with it. And then, then I recognize it.

_Ain't even worth the fuckin' effort…_

I welcome it. I welcome it with such an eagerness that it explodes from me in the form of a growled curse, my body up and off of the ground before my mind can process exactly what it is I am doing. And then I am on him, drinking in the sensation of my newly found rage, my teeth bared in a silent snarl as I rip out Zangetsu.

That mad glint has returned to his eyes, that feral grin slipping out to nearly crack his face in half. It's insane, that sharp toothed grin of his. It brings a feverish gleam to his eyes that makes them even brighter than they already are, his body reacting almost instantly to dodge out of the way of my shikai.

He's laughing now. It's a maniacal sound that causes shivers to run down my spine in fearful excitement and expectation. And then it's there, that sword of his, and I have no idea where it has come from but I don't care because I'm drunk off of the feel of something other than nothing, drunk off of the feel of the fury thrumming through my body.

And I'm being reckless. I can see it in every swing of my sword, every half assed attempt at defense offered every time his sword cuts too close. I don't care; I can't care. I'm floating on this exhilarating cloud of danger and fear and excitement and I don't know why I feel this way but it's clear that the other is feeling the same, his mouth opening wide to let out a cackle of unadulterated joy.

Our swords spark as they meet and our faces are so close that I can feel his panting breath over my face. It smells of something sharp and cinnamon, not something I am expecting from a Hollow, and his wild eyes are locked onto mine as the whites seem overly pronounced at how wide he has them open.

I move as if to jump back, to give us some distance to start attacking again, but one of his hands darts up and wraps around the back of my blade to pull it closer to him, the tip of it digging right into the bare flesh at the base of his neck. He's smiling again, that insane white smile that must make his cheeks ache with its intensity, and I am inching forward as well until we are so close that the tip of his blade is pressed in the soft spot underneath my jawbone. I feel it rumbling up from my chest then, a rumbling noise that can only be described as a growl, and I let it spill from my lips on a 'Fuck you' as I feel a sting where his sword is pressed up against me.

I didn't think he's smile can get any wider but he proves me wrong and does just that, his body moving so that his flesh is cut with my sword as well, his face flushing with glee as he answers me.

"Yeah, there are those eyes. You ain't right without them eyes."

And we are jumping away from each other at the same time, my gaze riveted on him as he continues to grin and begins to stalk me in a circle. I just pivot on my right foot, watching him, waiting as I feel the thin ribbon of blood trailing down from the new wound of my jaw to soak into the collar of my shinigami robe.

And then I become aware of something, a slow clapping, and we both snap our heads in the direction of the sound. There, as he always seems to be, is Urahara. He is sitting cross legged on top of a rather large rock, fan gone but replaced by that ugly as sin hat, clapping as slow as he pleases and watching up from a good distance away.

"Bravo! Bravo, the both of you. What an excellent way to start out a beautiful day. Exercise does everyone good, except for maybe you there. I will have to try to close up your wounds again, especially that nasty looking one on your torso. Hm, could have done without tearing that one back open. Its hard work you know!"

I flick my eyes back to my opponent and he is already looking back at me too, but for some reason he slowly tucks his sword away in its sheath at his side, crossing his arms over his chest with a disgruntled expression on his face.

"I don' need no fuckin' charity, 'specially from no ex Shinigami Captain." He spits off to the side, gaze lingering off into the distance. It's almost as if he knows he can't go anywhere, as if he has no reason to try to escape. I slowly sheathe my own sword and, after a second, Urahara giggles in that infuriating way.

"Even so! Guests are supposed to be looked after, and so you shall be. Kurosaki-kun? Would you mind being a good little boy and running off to fetch my first aid box? The special one, you know. Ah yes, thank you."

As I move off I don't bother to look at either of them again but I swear I can feel both of them watching me.

….

**Reviews really are welcomed! Tell me what you think. **


	4. Chapter 4

**Lies of The Beautiful**

Orihime is staring at me again with that look in her eyes that I can't exactly place and that I'm not exactly sure that I like. It reminds me of a starving dog, you know? That wide eyed look that they get when they see something edible and start to drool all over the place but you can't really give them all of it because they have to eat it in small doses because if not they will get sick all over the place. Yeah, that's her. Sans the drooling, of course.

It's unnerving. I want to snap at her to cut it out and stop acting like such a... oh. I don't even have the word for it. It just bugs me.

And then she's leaning forward and pressing her lips to mind and for a second I don't react because I have forgotten what I should be doing. And I don't mean that her kiss is so mind blowing that I lose functioning of my brain, but more of a 'I'm frozen in shock because I wasn't exactly prepared for her to kiss me.'

I wonder if that's normal. Do most people have to prepare themselves to kiss another person? The first time sure, but that's due to nerves. This... I don't really know the reasoning behind this, but it doesn't really matter because I'm pressing back and cupping the back of her head with my left hand because I know she wants this and I know that it makes her feel better to be kissed back. I don't really know why she needs reassurance by kissing, but it seems to ease her worries and I don't like her worried so...

She tastes like mouth. I don't know how else to describe it. You know, when your exhaling through your mouth while working your jaw and licking the roof of your mouth as if something tasty is within reach? That taste? Yeah, that's it. It's not really pleasant but I let it go because what else are kisses supposed to taste like? Freakin' chocolate covered strawberries? Yeah, didn't think so.

Any ways, we're kissing and she's moving her hand up my thigh towards my crotch and I don't exactly know what she's wanting so I just let it happen. I mean, she's the only girl I have ever kissed that way, and so it stands to reason that she is the only one who has touched me in that way either. I don't know if she's a virgin or not, but she doesn't seem like she is. I actually have this sick idea in my head that she let Ulquiorra teach her the wonders of being a woman, and what sex is all about, but I try not to think about that too much because then my mind wanders to Aizen and the after image of those fucking eyes that I hate are burning into my head and destroys whatever mood I'm in.

I really need to find a way to stop thinking about those eyes.

She's tugging on my pants, unbuttoning them and then they are halfway down my thighs and I'm not exactly sure when she had managed to do all that with my butt pressed firmly against the couch but I choose to ignore it in favor of running my hands through her long hair. She looks up to me with a tiny smile and her eyes are shining with joy and I don't have the heart to stop her from what she is doing and where she is going.

Her lips are nice. She's not a very good kisser, somewhat nervous and sloppy, but she knows how to put them to use when they are around an erection. It should be an enticing, erotic sight but I find that all I can do is watch her with a blank stare on my face as she attempts to coax my flacid member into some sort of response with her fingers and lips and tongue. I feel bad, if only because I know it hurts her feelings that I can't get up right now. It's really not her fault.

Back to the emptiness in the pit of my stomach.

I mean, who doesn't get aroused with a large busty woman sucking them off? It should be especially exciting for me, seeing as it's the first blowjob I have ever had in my entire life, but I just can't focus. Literally. My eyes are focused on a small book shelf set off behind the couch and I squint to try and read the titles decorating the spines of the books whenever the soft lips leave me and I turn to look at her again.

Her eyes are pleading now. Begging. I hate puppy dog eyes, they make me irritable. It's not her fault, not at all. But I can't bring myself to say that either and soon she stands up with a dejected sigh and moves towards the small kitchen as I stand up and redo my pants, not at all frustrated or angry that I have't gotten off. She really shouldn't feel bad. I can't even get up whenever I try to masturbate myself, so... again. No fault of hers.

She finishes dinner and we eat in silence and when I'm done I kiss her quick on the lips and mutter my good night to her before leaving. She fought back tears throughout the strange cuisine and I couldn't help but to feel a tinge of anger at myself and regret for not trying to react but, still. Maybe she really is better off as just a friend.

Yeah.

I think I will break up with her tomorrow.

...

Everyone is a little mad at me.

It's because I broke up with Orihime. Apparently I really hurt her feelings because Rukia came out of nowhere the following day with a look of murderous rage on her features, squaking in a high pitched voice about how insensitive I am and how I needed to get my priorities straight and some other stuff that I really wasn't paying attention to.

I guess she could be right. I did break up with Orihime in the middle of school after all. Right between my first class and my second class where everyone has like, five fucking minutes to get to their locker and run through the door. No wonder so many people are always getting sent home with injuries. With everyone jostling about and deathly afraid of being late and getting detention, I guess it's sort of a common experience. I myself have gotten at least three nosebleeds. Though I don't think two of them count because I'm pretty sure an elbow flying at your face isn't something accidental. Ah well.

Tatsuki got me during lunch while I was sitting outside enjoying the sunshine and altogether uncaring about my surroundings. And I mean she really got me. Her foot came out of freaking no where, right across my jaw. I went sprawling out on the ground, looking up at her in surprise as I lifted a hand up to assess the damage done. It was tender. It would bruise horribly. She was screaming at me at the top of her lungs about how dick-ish I was and how I should just go to Hell. I guess I deserve that too. In fact, I don't really blame her at all.

Ishida gave me this cold shoulder that could freeze a whole country, I swear I saw the tendrils of cold coming off of him and reaching my way. But that could just be my imagination after all. Mizuru and Keigo just kind of skirt around me, as if they are afraid that I'm going to burst into a fit of apopoliptic rage at any moment. I wonder if my scowl is unusually deep.

Chad's was the worst, by far. I know he didn't mean to hurt me. After all, we made that pledge that we would always have each others' backs and I know I dont plan on skivving on that promise anytime soon, but darn if his words didn't cut deep. He just looked at me with that one somber eye and, quietly, "We don't know who you are anymore Ichigo."

That's my fault, really. If only he knew how true his words were and still are. They have no idea how different I am from the person I used to be a year ago. Can they really blame me? I mean, they weren't the ones. I hate to think this way, but all Orihime did was get taken captive and fed and kept tucked away in a little room by herself as the rest of us barged into Hueco Mundo to save her. And the others, they had help when fighting their opponents. Ishida has a one up on them in that department, but really, they still just have no idea. All they saw was the aftermath of the real battle. All they did was sit around and help heal people and cry and worry.

What do they know about what I went through?

What did Rukia know when she was off doing whatever and I was hammering away with no humanity in sight with Ulquiorra? What did Ishida and Orihime know as she cringed away from me and I saved her life? What did Chad and everyone else know as those fucking eyes stared up at me like they did and I knew that I would no longer be able to speak to Zangetsu ever again, or no longer get into antagonizing banter with Shiro because I had taken that last, dreadful step into the point of no return?

What did they know when I was thinking I might actually die with Grimmjow's clawed hands wrapped around my throat, that mad gleam in his eye?

Grimmjow.

Ah, we've reached the crux of the problem.

We're in that underground room of Urahara's again. I don't know why I keep coming back. It's been about a week now and, surprisingly, Urahara found a way to make a Gigai for Grimmjow though I'm not exactly sure why he has done it. It's not like he plans on letting Grimmjow out in Karakara town to play.

But Grimmjow isn't wearing his gigai right now because we are engaged in a battle, again, and he is giving off that crazy laugh that makes Shiro seem kind of tame, now that I think back on it. His wide, glazed eyes are staring at me and matching the feral grin on his face. His wild blue hair is swaying with every move and I find myself wondering if it feels like normal human hair or if it is soft and yet still coarse, like animal hair.

He's mocking me. I don't exactly know why he says what he says, but it rings clear as day between us for only us to hear because no one else is around.

"You're fuckin' weak, Kurosaki. I can taste it in yer blood. Yer pathetic dwindlin' of power ev'ry time ya fight with ev'rythin' you've got. Yer Nothin'!"

I guess I shouldn't react to his taunting but it makes me so inexplicably angry that I hurdle myself at him with a roar of vengeance, my eyes wide and blazing. He likes that, apparently, because we're off again just as quickly, dancing in that way that only fighters can dance. I'm sweating by now. A bead of it has rolled down my temple into my eye and it stings but it's not too bad.

We are fighting, and my mind is raging... and my chest feels as if it will burst with the anger and frustration building within it from his too-true words.

I'm going to die weak.

I'm so ashamed.

...

**Hope you like this chapter. Wrote it during a hurricane, I did. Poor Orihime… poor Ichigo. **


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